


Hank Anderson X Reader - One Night Stand

by writeyouin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, One Night Stands, Reader-Insert, Romance, grumpy old man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26346244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyouin/pseuds/writeyouin
Summary: Tumblr Commission:
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Reader, Hank Anderson/you
Kudos: 38





	Hank Anderson X Reader - One Night Stand

Hank groaned and rolled over onto his side, reaching to pull the covers over his head, as if that might mask the headache he had from the previous night’s drinking. Yet, instead of finding the quilt, his calloused hand brushed over noticeably softer skin. Groggily, he opened his eyes, finding himself opposite your sleeping form, half-spooning him.

He stared long and hard at you, trying to recall the events of the previous night, or even the last time he had come home with a one-night stand. Occasionally in his youth, he would strike lucky, but that hadn’t happened in years. He was a grumpy, old bastard, who had little charm, especially when drunk, so how had it come to pass that you were now in his bed? You were pretty enough to be an android; shit, had he paid for your services? It would make sense, after all, nobody young and good-looking would want to spend the night with an old fart like him. Then again, androids didn’t sleep, and Hank couldn’t see an LED, but it was possible that you were mimicking sleep as some androids did, and that you had removed your LED if that was the case.

Gingerly, Hank lifted your arm, removing it from his chest, so he could sneak out of bed. He looked down, finding a state of undress that only irked him further. Upon pulling on boxers and a shirt, he made his way to the kitchen, trying to keep every movement silent as he made a pot of coffee and tried to come up with a game-plan. He could just wake you and tell you to leave, no matter how harsh it was, but that could lead to you actually trying to talk to him, and he didn’t want that; he didn’t want anything to do with you. Maybe it would be better for him to leave the house and hope that you would take the hint to go back to wherever it was you came from, but then what if you stayed anyway? Hank tried to think of any other options that might help him, but if he couldn’t leave and didn’t want to stay, what else was there? He sat down at the breakfast table to think.

“Morning,” Connor beamed, coming back home from his morning walk with Sumo.

“Fuck,” Hank groaned, having hoped Connor wouldn’t have been home till much later so he could get rid of you without Connor finding out; the android knew a lot more about sarcasm now, and would undoubtedly mock Hank until his dying days if he found out about you.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Connor grinned, removing Sumo’s leash and letting the Saint Bernard roam free.

“Connor, do me a favour and get the hell out. I have something to take care of.”

“I would have thought you’d be happy, considering you got lucky last night.”

“Shit, you fuckin’ knew?”

“About (Y/N), yes. I met her last night when you were sleeping. She went to the bathroom and saw me in the hallway. We then had a nice chat before she went back to bed with you. She’s a real catch.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Hank retorted half-heartedly, hating the shit-eating grin Connor now wore.

Connor was about to make a rebuttal, but the sound of the bedroom door creaking open drew both men’s attention.

“Morning,” You said chipperly, coming out in one of Hank’s old shirts and the jeans that you had arrived in. “Connor, Hank.”

Hank grumbled, feeling bad that he didn’t remember the previous night, when you clearly seemed happy about whatever had gone on; he was still trying to deduce whether he had paid for your time or not, but now that you were awake, it seemed rude to ask. Despite that, Hank was about to ask if you needed a ride home as a way to get rid of you, when you kissed his cheek and sat down next to him at the kitchen table. He froze, memories of his ex-wife surfacing; she used to do that in the early days before things turned sour.

“Would you like some breakfast, (Y/N)?” Connor asked, trying to keep you there as long as possible for his own enjoyment.

“NO!” Hank growled, forgetting himself momentarily. “Uh, I mean- Connor is a lousy cook. Burns everything he touches.”

“Oh,” You noted, “That’s too bad. Then I suppose it’s up to me to make breakfast. You like pancakes?”

“N-”

“He sure does,” Connor interrupted, moving over to the cupboards. “Here, I’ll get the ingredients for you.”

As Connor worked, pulling out various utensils, he began asking you questions about you, trying to get Hank to like you just for the fun of it.

“So, (Y/N), how did you and Hank meet?”

“Oh it was really sweet. We were at a bar last night and some guy pinched my ass, and I was about to yell at him, but then Hank came over to defend my honour. It was so romantic. After that, we spent the night talking and well, here we are now, right sweetie?”

“…Right,” Hank answered non-committedly, trying to jog his own memory. Did he really do that? Why couldn’t he have minded his own business?

“Really?” Connor said enthusiastically. “That’s just like Hank. Did you know he’s works at the DPD? He’s always there to protect the citizens of Detroit and-”

“Connor, bedroom, now,” Hank glowered at Connor, who only smiled at you and excused himself, closely followed by Hank.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Hank hissed, once the door was closed and they were out of earshot.

“I was only-”

“Argh, I don’t care. Either help me get rid of her, or get the fuck outta here. You hear me?”

Rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, Connor left the room, making his excuses to you before the house to go on yet another walk with Sumo.

“Bye Con,” You waved casually. “See you later. Well, I guess it’s just the two of us.”

Hank rubbed his beard awkwardly, dragging his hand down his face “Yeah about _us…_ Listen, I’ve gotta be honest here. I don’t really remember anything about last night.”

Your face fell, “Oh…”

“And you seem like a nice girl, but uh- You’ve got a lot of life to live and you don’t want to go wasting it on a grumpy old fart like me, with a rough job and a heavy drinking problem.”

“Have you picked up women before?”

“What?” Hank asked, your question throwing him.

“Like, do you do this all the time?”

“No. Honestly, I haven’t done anything like this in a long time.”

“Then it’s fate,” You exclaimed happily.

“What?”

“You said it yourself. You don’t normally do this. So, whatever happens Hank Anderson, I am going to recreate the spark we had last night, until you learn that I’m the one for you. Besides, you’re a charming, handsome silver fox. Why would I ever give that up?”

You wrapped your hands around Hank’s waist and pecked his cheek again, while he stood dumbfounded.

Hank watched you with a frown as you went back to mixing the pancake batter, all the while wondering just what the hell he had said the previous night that had earned your affection.

At noon that day, Connor came back somewhat glumly, prepared for the fact that you would be gone and that Hank was willing to give up on finding love again. He had genuinely liked you, after finding that you truly did have feelings for Hank. However, when he got back in, he found you at the table with Hank in an avid conversation about old music.

Hank took in Connor’s flummoxed expression, and answered it with an equally perplexing statement, “(Y/N)’s staying for dinner.”

“No kidding,” Connor chuckled. “Welcome to the Anderson’s, (Y/N).”


End file.
